


17

by Pearly_Pornography



Series: Pearly's Preklok Fics [4]
Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Age Difference, Borderline William, Dad Nathan, Depression, Drug Use, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Questioning, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Team as Family, Teen Angst, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking, Violence, binge eating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 05:15:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8565460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pearly_Pornography/pseuds/Pearly_Pornography
Summary: The ages were all screwed up. How did he end up working both with a guy in his mid-20's and a damn teenager?





	

It was a weird work situation, honestly.

But damn, he wanted his metal band more than anything. And before Charles joined the picture, it meant being the dad sometimes.

He was the middlemost age-wise, having just turned 19, with Pickles nearing his 21st birthday and Magnus at 25. (Christ, 25!) Below him was Skwisgaar at 18, and then the bassist. William Victor Murderface. (When the kid would get drunk, he would mumble his name 3 times, and everyone thought it was hilarious.)

He wasn't going to complain about working with a dude 6 years older than him, as weird as it was. The guy was good. His temper was a horrifying force, but Nathan had no reason to fear him. He could hold his own in most fights.

Not to mention he and his pals got to live in Magnus' house without so much as paying rent, and used his garage for practice and everything. Despite minor suspicion on the singer's end, everyone else was more than eager to leave their homes.

He didn't trust Magnus, per se, but accepted his talent nonetheless.

During a balmy afternoon, while him and the others were splitting a case of beer, Little Willy as they sometimes called him ran off to get some Oreos. (It was a combination Nathan questioned.) Regardless, he took awhile and Magnus went in after him.

Hardly even a few minutes later and Nathan checked on them, only to find them on top of the counter, Magnus' hands sliding under Murderface's shirt, their lips and tongues together in a sick display.

Nathan forcibly pulled them apart. 

No way was he approving that shit.

Magnus shrugged it off, saying they were just having a little fun. It was all in good taste, friend, and Murderface was having a good time, blah blah blah. Nathan wasn't drunk enough to approve of it, but he was just buzzed enough to only send Magnus off with a warning.

Looking back, that probably should've been a red flag from the beginning.

Murderface vehemently denied any sort of sexual contact. ("You know me, Nathan. I am scho not gay." Same old stuff.) 

He didn't want to talk about it anymore.

Life continued as usual. They played, they wrote, they drank, Pickles spent all his money on drugs, whiskey and cigarettes and they all got wasted like animals every few days.

But the incident planted a seed in his brain. 

Another practice session. Magnus came home slightly late with a shopping bag, and brought out more tequila than anyone would ever need. 

An overexcited Murderface hopped up on one foot and kissed Magnus on the cheek, shouting in his messy lisp, "You're the bescht!" His face glowed with an uncharacteristic happiness. He'd never seen the guy in such a good mood, and that scared him more than anything.

"Wait one minute." He grabbed his bassist by the sleeve and dragged him to a bathroom where, hopefully, nobody would listen.

Murderface swore and spat like a wet kitten.

"The fuck wasch that?!"

"Dude." Nathan tried to explain this without being condescending. "He is eight years older than you, and has serious anger issues."

"What, are you jealousch?" He crossed his arms. "Finally I'm gettin' schome motherfucking reschpect around 'ere! He likesch me, dude!"

"You can't fuck an old guy!" 

"Why not?!" 

"You can't, I don't give a flying fuck if you think he cares about you. He doesn't, alright? You're being used for--"

"Don't gimme that shit. I bet you jutsch wish you weren't schingle! Well you ain't ruining thisch for me, okay?!"

"But you're--"

"Converschation over!" He threw the door open. As stubborn as he was kinda monkey-looking.

They played alright. Nathan couldn't find it in him to sing very well. His other bandmates were intelligent enough to know something shitty had gone down, but Murderface wouldn't say a word about the subject. He insistently took up a spot on Magnus' bed that night. Nathan felt sick just thinking about it.

"So are they like... You know..." 

"Yeah. Yeah, they are." 

Pickles wrinkled his nose. 

"That is wrong on so many levels."

"Yah, you knows..." Skwisgaar flopped over on one of three loose matresses, idly tuning his guitar. "The age gaps are weird unless, yous both likes, adults, but one ams really old, right?"

"So, right now, are they like..." Pickles shoved his index finger between a loop made by his other hand. Nathan grimaced. "Oh, damn. I'll take that as a yes."

"Maybe we shoulds, you knows, kicks him out the bands?"

"Don't think Li'l Willy would take that too well, dood. You know how he is. Once he stabbed himself through the arm because he couldn't afford a parrot. I hardly even knew he wanted a parrot."

There were two things Nathan didn't want out of this situation. Either his bassist would end up in a shitty relationship with a shitty guy, or he would be really, really depressed.

Damn the world, with its necessary evils.

"Who gives a fucks, anyways? Ifs he gets his lifes wrecked by somes guys, it's not my problems." Skwisgaar had a bad habit of being callous. "He's barelies youngers than I ams, or you ams, Nathans, he shoulds knows this shits anyhows." 

"Well, yeah but, you know..." Nathan trailed off. "He's kinda... Stupid."

"Nathan, you didn't even pass high school."

He glared at Pickles, who looked up and away, whistling obnoxiously. 

"I need some time to think on this."

He slept on a mattress, distantly hearing what he wished he couldn't. Murderface had the ugliest grunts.

Luckily, after a stabbing incident, they all agreed to let Magnus go. Some more reluctantly so than others. By that point Nathan had his own apartment through various side jobs. (Skwisgaar had no qualms working in stripping and male prostitution.)

There was a lover's quarrel, ending in a slap. Their own Little Willy, now 18 years old, scraped at his belly with his favorite knife in the bathroom. He walked out bleeding and sobbing, and ate 3 tubs of ice cream plus two bottles of Jack Daniels before passing out covered in his own piss. And Nathan, wanting to do something decent for once, carried him to bed.


End file.
